


Can't Get Back Without You

by kaylaber1



Category: Gorillaz
Genre: Abusive Relationships, Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Angst, Character Development, Drug Use, Handling problems like mature adults, M/M, Phase Four (Gorillaz), Some messed up shit, The orgin of Murdoc's wonky eye, songfic?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-23
Updated: 2017-10-18
Packaged: 2018-11-03 18:07:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 10
Words: 11,482
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10972608
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kaylaber1/pseuds/kaylaber1
Summary: It's not like either of them can ignore it at this point- their relationship is fucked up.





	1. Busted and Blue

It wasn't a surprise, really. Everyone knew he was capable of doing something like this. It had always been a question of "when" rather than "if". Stuart Pot is just thankful that Noodle wasn't there when it finally happened.

He couldn't even remember what they were fighting about. Something stupid, probably. It's always something stupid. His memories of the event are distant, as though they'd happened to someone else. He watches them on loop, like if maybe replaying the incident would allow him to change the outcome, to stop himself. He's pinned to the wall roughly, his skull colliding with the plaster, making a cracking sound he can still hear, and a surge of panic runs through him- that fight or flight instinct that he's become well acquainted with over the years. He surges foreward, his forehead colliding with Murdoc's nose with a sickening crunch. The bassist released him immediately, stumbling backwards, hands clapped to his face, blood running through the gaps in his fingers. He should have stopped there. He didn't.

Digusted, he watches himself step forward and grab the smaller man by the front of the shirt and lift him off the floor like a ragdoll. Stu can only look on in horror as he throws him against the opposite wall, Murdoc's body denting the plaster with a grotesque thud. He'd curled into a defensive ball on the floor, shaking profusely. Even that would have been a more acceptable place to stop, horrible though it was. But all of the years he'd spent under Murdoc's thumb- the drunken beatings, the verbal deathtraps, plastic beach- clouded his judgment. In that moment he was as far from himself as he could ever remember being. He kicked the bassist squarely in the ribs, once, twice, a third time, until Russel heard the commotion and finally tore him away. Stuart thinks with a shiver about how far he would have gone had the drummer not stopped him.

" 'D? You doin' alright man?" Russel's voice snaps him back to reality.

He doesn't know if he's okay. He nods anyway. The hospital is cold and sterile, which only fuels his worried thoughts. Somewhere, he's vaguely aware of his hands shaking around the vase of flowers he'd picked up in the gift shop after they'd been told that Murdoc would be admitted. 4 broken ribs, a broken nose, and a severe concussion was the diagnosis. It was that last part that was concerning. He pulled the flowers closer to himself.

"You gonna give those to him?" Russel asks. Stu knows he's only trying to keep him from thinking about it too much. It's not working. Still, it's a nice gesture.

"Mhmm." He nods. "...Noodle?"

"I called her when we were in the ER. Told her what happened, where we were, what was going on." Stu's face must have betrayed his feelings, because Russel scrambles to clarify. "Not everything that happened. Only the important parts."

They fall silent again for some time, neither one of them sure what to say. What _is_ there to say? Stuart is falling apart and it's no one's fault but his own. He is thankful for the distraction when their guitarist throws open the waiting room doors.

"What did he do this time?" Are the first words out of her mouth, and they hit Stu like bricks. He folds in on himself as well as he can without crushing the bright yellow bouquet. What _did_ he do this time? What had he done that deserved _this_?

It takes him a moment to realize that Russel is looking to him for an answer. He has none to give. Their concerned silence seems to be telling, though, as a look of realization passes over Noodle's face and she mumbles something in Japanese that Stu can only assume is a curse. She sinks into a chair next to him with a tired sigh. 

"Is he okay?" She asks the room. To her side, Stuart is silent, picking at the cheap flowers.

"He's in the hospital, how okay can he be?" Russel sighs.

"Are you okay?" Noodle places a hand on Stu's shoulder. He nods just a little too quickly to be convincing. "Do you want me to take those for you?" She gestures towards the flowers. 

"N-no. I'll do it." He stutters, getting to his feet shakily. He's not completely certain that he's ready to do this, but at this point it's too late- Noodle has taken his hand and is leading him down the hallway, reading the room numbers. It reminds him of when the band had first gotten together and she would go for walks with him, only this time, instead of ice cream there would be something much darker at the end- proof of a side of himself he didn't want to know he had. He feels sick. 

"Murdoc?" She calls softly, opening the door. Stuart wants to turn around, but Russel is behind him and Noodle still has his hand in a death grip. He reminds himself that he was given an out and he chose not to take it. This was his own fault. All of it.

"...Noods? Issat you?" Murdoc calls back. His voice is uncharacteristically weak, and a pained quality in his tone makes guilt rise like bile in Stu's throat. He's ushered all the way into the room. "Hey, you brought the whole band..." He chuckled.

"How are you feeling?" Noodle asks, sitting on the hospital bed. Stu presses himself against the wall, willing himself invisible. This was worse than he'd thought it would be.

"Like hell. I deserved it though." The bassist slurs. After a period of trying to focus, his gaze settles on Stuart. "Flowers?" 

Stu flinches at the acknowledgement, but takes a shaky step forward and sets the vase on the bedside table. He pulls his hands back like he's been burned and pushes himself back against the wall.

"Uh..yeah.. thought you might like them...y'know... considering..." He rambles. Without the vase, he doesn't know what to do with his hands anymore. He switches from fidgeting to pressing his hands to his sides and back as he stutters.

"Thanks mate." Murdoc interrupts, saving Stu from his own stuttering. He must be out of it, because Murdoc sounds genuine. A hand on his shoulder draws his attention away from the bassist.

"Hey 'D." Russel says from behind him. "The coffee here is shit. How about you run down to the cafe and get us all something actually decent?" He suggests. Stu recognizes his out and takes it, muttering some affirmation and dashing out of the room like he'd been set on fire.

At the cafe down the road, he's thankfully unrecognized. He doesn't think he could handle any fans right now. Now, that everything is handled and he is away from it all, now the tears come. He locks himself in the small bathroom, sinking to the floor and sobbing openly. He doesn't know how they're going to go on from this point. He fucked up. And now, it was sure to be over. His band, his family, will fall apart again and this time it'll be all his fault. Shuddering on the tile, he hopes that none of them realize how long he's been gone.


	2. Through the Lithium

Murdoc isn't even out of the hospital before Stu is back on painkillers. His claim is migraines, as always, but even Stuart himself knows that no one prescibes norco for headaches. They never touch his pain anyway. They just make him feel good. Invincible. Happy go lucky. They let him escape himself- his guilt, his anxieties, his sadness- just for a little while.

He doesn't remember how he got the prescriptions, although they're in his name. It was probably an emergency room visit after a row with Murdoc. In the worst of times, he'd go to the emergency room after a domestic regardless of his injuries. At one point, it had gotten so bad that Stuart would intentionally pick fights with the bassist so he'd have a reason for the narcotics. That had gotten him a black eye and a series of bloody claw marks when he was found out, one of which had been deep enough to scar. Looking back on it sober, he felt awful for it. However, he didn't often look back on it. He didn't often look back on the majority of their relationship.

They've gone to dinner to celebrate Murdoc's release from the hospital. It's not often they're all out together like this, and Stu is having the time of his life, only partly induced by the pills. If you were to compare him now to himself only yesterday, he would be unrecognizable. Stuart yesterday could barely talk, too scared of the "what ifs" and consumed by his errors. Stuart today was chatty, cracking jokes without a care in the world. So what if he couldn't remember where he was, or what he'd just said, or what he'd even been laughing about, he felt nice.

"Dents, did you hear me?" Murdoc is speaking to him. His voice is still nasally from the bandaging where they'd set his fracture and Stu has to stop himself from giggling. 

"Nah. Wha's happenin'?" Stu asked cheerfully, setting his head in his hands. Murdoc looks him in the eyes for a minute, one of them slipping in and out of focus, assessing him. Stu feels uncomfortable under his scrutiny, especially with the new addition of the lazy eye. Guilt bubbles in his gut and his hand moves to his pocket, where his pill bottle is stashed. He doesn't know how long it's been since his last one, but damn if he didn't need another.

"I said I'd like to have a word with you when we get home." Murdoc's voice is serious, and that's enough to sober Stuart up quickly. He doesn't ask questions when the bassist reaches across the table and snatches his beer. He feels jittery, and hyper conscious of the new tension in the room. It's hard for him to breathe. He spends the rest of dinner in stark silence, fingers ghosting over the pill bottle, debating taking another. Anything to distract him. To keep him from noticing the still fresh bruises across Murdoc's face, or the absence of motor control in his right eye. Or at least keep him from remembering that it was his fault. 

When they get back to the house, he goes to dash to his room, but is stopped by a firm grip around his wrist. Long nails bite into his skin warningly, and Stu turns around slowly.

"You're not getting out of this, Dents." Murdoc says sternly. He hasn't let go yet and it's starting to hurt. Stu jerks his hand away.

"Relax, Muds. I'm not flaking on ya. How's about I go get us a few beers and-"

"Like hell you will. Hydrocodone reacts violently with alcohol, dullard. You want to kill yourself?" Murdoc snaps at him, causing him to jump. 

"H-how did you-" Stu stutters. He's panicking a little at this point. 

"I have a doctorate in administration of pharmaceutical medicines, I can tell when someone is high." Murdoc says flatly. "And I know how eager those quick clinics are to prescribe norco. The acetaminophen in that will excellerate the effects of the hydrocodone, by the way. You _really_ don't want to drink on that stuff."

"Oh. M'sorry." Stu mutters. It's not a real apology, he just doesn't know what else to say. He sits on the porch step, long legs jutting out at a comical angle.

"No you're not." Murdoc scoffs, pulling a cigarette out of his back pocket and pressing it between his lips. He fumbles in his pocket for an old zippo lighter, retrieving it and lighting the cigarette. "You never are. You're just going to apologize, and then hole up in your room popping pills until one of us finds you half dead or you run out and have to come up with an excuse to get your prescription filled."

"Did you just wanna talk about bad habits? 'Cause you've got quite a laundry list yourself." Stu says shortly. He didn't come out here to be lectured like a child.

"For your information, _Stuart Pot_ , no, I wasn't gonna drag you out here to lecture you on drug usage. But seeing as you're too high to even remember what you ate for dinner, it's a bit of a moot point. However, if it'll keep you from accidentally killing yourself, I'd be delighted to sit here and talk your ear off." Murdoc says. He sounds cross.

"What do you care?!" Stu snaps at him. "You only care if I live so that I can keep singing in your stupid band!"

Immediately Stu realizes that he's said something terribly wrong. His words hang heavy in the silence, which feels like the peace right before a tornado touches down. Regret replaces any other emotions as he scrambles back to his feet. 

"Muds, I-I-I'm sorry-"

"That's really what you think, isn’t it?" Murdoc sighed, looking into the distance. He took a drag from his cigarette and Stu watched the smoke curl from his lips, dissapearing into the night. "Makes sense. I never really gave you reason to think otherwise. But, ah, for the record, I _do_ care about you. Quite a lot, actually. And I prefer you alive, prettyboy." He punched the singer's arm gently, leaning back against the wall. 

Stu is suprised, having expected a violent reaction. He is relieved, but cautious. After all, a respectful, productive, and down to earth conversation with Murdoc was rare, and one that ends in a compliment was unheard of. He leans against the archway, he lets his guard down only slightly.

"Why do you call me that?"

"Call you what?"

"Pretty." 2D smirks a little, shoving his hands into his jacket pockets. "I find it interesting, 'cause I'm really not. 'Specially as far as front men go. I mean, in the age of Justin Timberlakes and Harry Styles' I can hardly be considered pretty."

"I wouldn't trust Cyborg's taste in men, Dents." Murdoc chuckles. 

"So I should trust yours?" Stu says teasingly. He doesn't really mean anything by it, but nonetheless it's satisfying to watch his bandmate turn red, coughing and sputtering uncomfortably.

"Alright, StuPot. That's enough chit chat. I'm going to bed." Murdoc says briskly, crushing his cigarette out against the porch. He stops halfway through the door and turns around. "Hey, just... take care of yourself, okay?"

"Sure, Muds." Stu says hollowly, looking back out towards the road. He hears the door shut behind him and breathes a sigh of relief. Shaking, he withdraws the pill bottle from his pocket and pops the cap open, removing a capsule and then swallowing it dry. He stares out into the night, waiting for the medicine to kick in and for all his fears to wash away again.


	3. A Shadow on the Wall

As predicted, Stu spends the next 3 days in ecstasy, drugged out of his mind and floating above the world. The other band members check in on him every now and again, but really it all runs together. He scribbles down song lyrics on the walls, parts of poems he'll never finish, incoherent doodles done in between naps. Not naps, really, but periods of semiconsciousness. However, after 3 days, he's run out of bottled water and has worked up an incredible thirst. It burns in him like nothing he's ever experienced before. Uncoordinated, he stumbles into the hallway and down to the kitchen.

The rest of the band is sitting on the worn leather couch, watching an old horror movie. He tries his best not to disturb them as he sneaks past the couch into the kitchenette.

"Toochi?"

He spins around to see Noodle peeking over the back of the couch at him, eyes full of concern. He tries his best to form a coherent and chipper greeting in response, but isn't sure that he's succeeded because her brow furrows deeper. Russ and Murdoc are now looking at him, turned over each arm. He feels put on the spot, shaky, like he did every middle school piano recital, and he's sweating buckets. 

"You don't look too good, 'D." Russel says. He doesn't feel too good either. He's weak, and he feels clammy. His throat is dry. He wants nothing more than to continue on his way to the kitchenette for water. Stu mumbles something in response and turns, stumbling towards the kitchenette. 

"Dents, how many have you taken?"

"Wha..?" He turns around, dizziness taking him suddenly. He leans against the wall for support.

"The pills, Stuart!! How many have you taken??!" Murdoc is on his feet now, sprinting towards him and shouting. Stu moves to cover his ears. He doesn’t like the shouting. All he wants is a glass of water. His vision is blurry, and he blinks a few times to try and clear it. It doesn't work. The dizziness overtakes him and he's falling, the floor getting closer at an alarming rate. Murdoc catches him by the forearms, slowing his descent. He's too heavy for the bassist to support and they both end up on the floor, Stu resting less than comfortably on Murdoc's lap. Somewhere, he's vaguely aware of Noodle screaming. 

"Shit!!" Murdoc exclaims. "He's overdosing! Russ, get the car _now_!"

Stu hears shuffling in the background, and then the front door slamming. God, he's tired. He shuts his eyes, leaning into Murdoc and nuzzling against his shirt. He smells like cigarettes and musky aftershave and Stu inhales the scent deeply, taking comfort in its familiarity. He's snapped out of his sleep like state by a sharp slap to the face. 

"Damn it, Stu, stay with me! Don't close your fucking eyes you little shit!" Murdoc is shouting again, and shaking him now. Stu winces. He doesn't like shouting.

"Muds, I got the car." Russel's voice comes from across the room. Stu feels like he's listening to it from underwater. Or maybe at the end of a long tunnel. 

"Alright, can you help me move him?"

Another pair of arms wraps around Stu's body and he's lifted off the ground. He feels like he's back in the middle of the ocean, bobbing gently on the waves. It makes him slightly nauseous, and the memories that brings back aren't helping. He's gently put into the the car, sandwiched between Murdoc and Noodle, and they speed away. Stuart leans his head on the bassist's shoulder, feeling Noodle take his hand. Her nails dig into his skin, clinging to him for dear life. He feels guilty again. 

"mmmmmsorry..." he mumbles against Murdoc's shoulder. A hand came to rest in his hair, stroking gently.

"Hush. Save your breath, love."

He smiles a bit. Love. Murdoc's never called him that before. He likes it. His chest feels tight suddenly, heart thudding against his ribs. It's like an elephant has sat on his lungs. He begins to gasp, panting like a dog on a hot day. He feels Noodle jump, her grip on his hand tightening. To his other side, Murdoc's hand flies to his wrist. 

"Fuck." He whispers. "His pulse is too high. He needs a hospital. Russ, how far out are we?"

"About 5 minutes. We shoulda called an ambulance." 

"Don't you think I've realized that?! Just drive!"

"n-nnnnnno....no..shouting...." Stu says in between gulps of air. It's hard to speak. Like he's got a handful of marbles in his mouth.

"Alright. Alright StuPot. No more yelling. I'm sorry. Just hang in there for me, okay?" Murdoc's voice is softer now. Softer than Stu has ever heard it. Something about that unnerves him. He barely notices that Murdoc's hand has slipped into his, squeezing gently. 

"We're here. You two take him in, I'll park. Hurry." Russel says, hitting the brakes a little too roughly.

"Alright. Noodle, I've got him on this side, you get his other arm, okay?"

"Yeah."

Stu feels himself be lifted from the car again. He tries to offer some help for the smaller individuals carrying him, but his legs feel like they're no longer connected. They drag behind him like he's a corpse. He feels like a corpse. They make it as far as the triage before Stuart succumbs to his symptoms. Deadweight, his bandmates can no longer carry him, and he collapses onto the linoleum. The last conscious thought he has is of how he never got his cup of water.


	4. The Wires that Connect to Us

Beeping. Gentle prodding at his side. Crisp, unfamiliar sheets. These are the sensations Stu wakes to. His eyes flutter open, attempting to focus in the dim light. His throat is dry and feels like he's been drinking sand.

"Good morning, Mr. Pot." A chipper nurse whispers to him from his side, where she'd been taking his pulse.

"W-what happened?" He choked out, a thousand razor blades scratching his vocal chords. 

"Well, Mr. Pot, you're in the ICU. You overdosed on hydrocodone and acetaminophen. Do you remember anything about that?" She asks. 

He remembers snippets when he tries- Noodle screaming, Murdoc shouting at him, a bumpy car ride. Nothing coherent, though. Tired, he shakes his head.

"That's alright. With how delirious you were when you came in, I'd be surprised if you did." She says, putting her stethoscope to his chest and listening to his heartbeat. "You're doing quite well, Mr. Pot. With any luck, we'll be able to move you to a regular bed before the night is out." She smiles at him brightly, and he wonders how anyone can look that happy while working a night shift in intensive care.

"...Water?" He manages. 

"Oh yes! Of course. I'll bring two. Your friend might want it when he wakes up." She puts her stethoscope into the front pocket of her scrubs and walks out of the room, leaving the door slightly ajar. 

...friend? Stu looks over his shoulder to the corner of the room where a smallish figure is curled up on a badly upholstered armchair, genuine leather boots resting by its legs. Of all of his bandmates, he figured that Murdoc was the least likely to spend the night in the hospital with him. And yet, here he was, asleep uncomfortably by his side. Stuart has many questions.

His nurse comes in, putting a plastic cup of water on the table to his side, and another on the table beside Murdoc's chair. "My name is Rebecca, and I'll be back in another hour to get your vitals. If you need anything before then, your call button is here." She says, placing a thick plastic remote in his hand. She leaves, closing the door behind her. 

Across the room from him, Murdoc stirs, unfolding himself and stretching. He cracks his neck, groaning with discomfort before downing the cup of water in one gulp. He looks Stu in the eyes, seeming to have just now realized he was there.

"Mornin' faceache." Murdoc grins. "You gave us quite the scare."

"Wh-why....did you stay with me?"

"Satan, not even going to spare me a 'hello' before giving me the third degree?" He says jokingly. "It was a compromise. Noodle wanted to stay with you, and Russ and I figured she needed rest more than anything, so I agreed to stay and keep an eye on you for her." He runs a hand through his hair, leaning back into the chair. "How ya feelin'?"

"Like hell."

"Good. Drink your water, arsehole." 

Stu downs the contents of the plastic cup in seconds, still feeling quite parched afterwards. He is exhausted, the act of fighting for his life having utterly drained him, but despite that he struggles to an upright sitting position. 

"Thank you." Stu croaks with a weak smile.

"For what?" Murdoc scoffs as he tugs on his boots. Stu is sure that there are at least 4 height altering inserts in them, because the action takes the bassist from 5'4 to nearly 5'10. He chuckles internally at the absurdity. 

"Well, for stayin with me, o'course. And for saving my life. Again." Stu shrugs. He lays back down with a yawn. "If it weren't for you, I'd probably be pushin up dasies."

"Don't worry about it, mate." Murdoc says, moving towards the door. "I'm running out for a smoke, need anything?"

"Nah." Stu sighs. Murdoc almost makes it out of the door before Stu starts talking again. "You know, I'm surprised you're not angry with me." 

Murdoc shuts the door again, and there is a great pause before anything is said.

"I am livid, Stuart. Your stupid addiction put your life on the line. I - I mean we- could have lost you!" He sputters angrily. "I asked you to take care of yourself and now look what you've done! Does this look like taking care of yourself, faceache?!"

Stu shrinks back into the pillows of his hospital bed in shame. "I-I'm sorry Muds, I just thought-"

"No! You didn't think! You never think! You just do whatever you want and don't think about the consequences or how it might affect the people who love you! Look at Noodle, for Satan's sake! She's absolutely beside herself with worry!" Murdoc rages. He lets out something between a growl and a screech and turns his back to Stu, placing his face in his hands. Stuart goes to shout back something about Murdoc's own selfish recklessness, when the bassist whips back around to face him. Tears are streaming down his face, and suddenly Stu feels very awful. "Get your fucking head out of your arse, Stu!"

"Murdoc..." Stu sighs, watching helpless as the other works himself into an ugly sob

"Shut up!" Murdoc snaps at him, but his voice cracks in the middle of the command, making it infinitely less threatening. Taking deep, shuttering breaths, he calms down. "I'm going for that smoke break now." He announces weakly, bolting out the door before Stuart can object again. 


	5. Are You Here With Me?

They don't talk about the night in the hospital. Murdoc makes sure that every pharmacy in a 20 mile radius of the house knows Stu's name and face, and will not dispense narcotics to him. Not that it matters. The hollow look on everyone's faces coupled with the magnification of the burning guilt that he'd been trying to medicate for originally have put him off the idea of pain meds. But above all else, they do not talk about the night in the hospital.

Stuart is fine with this unspoken rule. He doesn't want to think about Noodle crying over his unconscious body, or the car ride to the hospital where everyone was shouting about him, or the awful, dry feeling in his mouth. And he definitely didn't want to think about how Murdoc fit into the whole situation. He didn't think about Murdoc unless it was absolutely necessary. There were too many memories. Too many conflicting feelings. It made his head hurt. 

He's sprawled out on the couch watching a Vincent Price flick. It's one of his favorites, but admittedly he's having trouble concentrating. His mind keeps wandering back to the hospital. Was he selfish? He didn't mean to be. Maybe therapy would be a good idea.

"Oi, faceache. Can we talk?" Murdoc's voice came from beside him, unusually tender and shockingly sober.

"Uh yeah, sure." Stu says, scrambling to pause the movie. "What's going on?"

Murdoc sits on the couch beside him. The room falls silent as he struggles for words.

"Alright, you know that I'm rubbish with words."

"Yeah, you really are."

"Not the point." The bassist rolls his eyes. He takes his phone out of his pocket, and plugs in a set of ear buds, sticking one in Stu's ear. He presses play, and immediately "On Melancholy Hill" fills his ears. As he listens, Murdoc looks at him expectantly. Listening to his own voice was something that had always made Stuart uncomfortable, and that coupled with the waiting, unrelenting stare of his bandmate has Stu crawling in his skin. He meets Murdoc's eyes.

"Why are you making me listen to this?" He asks. 

"It's about you." Murdoc admits with a sigh. "The- ah- the whole album is, really. About you, that is. I-I wrote it for you."

It's like a light has gone on in Stu's head. Suddenly, things start to make sense. Years of unexplained strange behavior, discarded sentences, sweet yet somber song lyrics, screaming and tears and alcohol and drugs. It all makes sense. Stu takes out the earbud. 

"Sing it for me." He says.

"Dents, you know I've got an awful singing voice."

"I don't care. I want to hear you sing it." Stu says earnestly. He reaches for Murdoc's hand, taking in within his own and lacing their fingers together. He hasn't held anyone's hand in a very long time. Long enough that the sensation brings butterflies to his stomach, and his breath hitches when his grip is returned. "Please?"

"...........fine." Murdoc concedes, quickly checking over his shoulder for any signs of the other band members. "But don't say I didn't warn you."

Murdoc's voice is terrible. It always has been. That's why Stu is the singer. But nonetheless, it's a comfort to hear the lyrics from him, especially now. Now that he knew that it wasn't about some groupie or an old girlfriend, but about himself. He could hardly believe that. A whole album- full of sad, sweet love songs- written by Murdoc about him. He isn't really sure how to feel about that. Stuart can honestly say that he's never once considered that Murdoc might have feelings for him. He never considered a possibility of having something....more with him. But holding hands with him on the couch, listening to him sing Melancholy Hill, he was comfortable.

Stu decides then and there not to put too much thought into this. Into them. There's too much to analyze, too much to sort out. He'll roll with the punches, let this unfold in whatever way it would, because right now he's happy. Right now, Murdoc has been sober for nearly a month, and the bruising on his face has healed completely, and Stuart is alive, and listening to an old friend sing him an old song. He feels no need to label this. It's too fragile for that. Suddenly, he realizes that Murdoc has stopped singing, and they've been staring at each other for some time.

It's an unusual silence, charged with anticipation. He isn't sure what he's trying to do when he scoots closer and moves his arm around Murdoc's shoulder. And he really isn't sure what he's hoping to accomplish by leaning in towards him. He's almost surprised when they end up kissing, lips brushing together chastely, like two awkward teenagers sharing their first kiss. He pulls back from it, looking at Murdoc's face for any signs of hesitation. Finding none, he presses their lips together again, this time more firmly, more passionately. He'd never imagined that their first kisses would be so innocent. Although, truthfully, he'd never imagined them kissing at all. His grip shifts to Murdoc's waist as the bassist's hands move to grip the front of his shirt, and Stuart thinks with frustration that they could have done this a lot sooner. Then, the hands on his chest are pushing him away violently. 

"Wassa matter?" Stu asks worriedly "Did I hurt you? Are your ribs still healing?" He reaches out, but his hand is swatted away. 

"No. This was a bad idea. All of this. I shouldn't have done that." Murdoc says, panic coloring his tone.

Stu looks at him incredulously. He doesn't know what he's done wrong. He looks into Murdoc's unfocused eyes, noticing for the first time in a while how one of them can never stay fixed in one place for long. "Why?" He asks, although a sinking feeling in his gut tells him he probably knows the answer. 

"I don't deserve this." The words are very weak, but Stu catches them nonetheless, and it twists the knife in his gut. Murdoc is right. He doesn't deserve this. Stu sits back on the couch and watches Murdoc practically sprint to his room without protest. He feels stupid to think that he'd be forgiven. After all, who could forgive someone who had intentionally put you in hospital? 

Stuart turns back to the T.V., pressing play. His movie has lost its lustre, though. He wants to write. Stu retires to his room early, and isn't seen for another two days. 


	6. I am a Satellite...

Stuart emerges from his room 2 days later with almost an entire song written. Frustration has taken him. He can't make the lyrics work, the tune is wrong, and it's missing _something_ , but he has no idea what. He decides that perhaps it's time to take a break.

Stepping into the "family room", he finds the rest of the band in a heated game of uno. Murdoc's reading glasses rest on the end of his nose as he contemplates his cards, but Stu can see that all he has is crap. He slams down a 2 and then it's Noodle's turn. She slaps down a reverse and Stu smiles.

"AUGHHHHH! You're killing me, Noodle! You're killing your father!"

Stuart chuckles heartily at this, drawing attention to his presence. The entire table looks up at him in stark silence for a moment. 

"Erm...Hullo?" Stuart says awkwardly, desperate to releve the tension

"Hello, stranger. Finally come out of hiding, have we?" Noodle teases. He can tell from her tone, however, that she's glad to see him. "Would you like us to deal you in?"

"Yeah." Russel chimes in. "You can help us finish kicking Murdoc's ass."

"You lot are _not_ kicking my ass!" Murdoc insists, shifting the fat stack of cards in his hands. "I'm just waiting for the right moment!!"

"Sure you are, Muds." Stu says, sliding into the chair next to him. "Deal me in, Noodle."

That night is one of the best Stu can remember. They play 8 hands, and order pizza, and smile, and joke, and generally have a great time. And the best part is, they're all completely sober. They settle in for a movie after Murdoc throws a fit over not winning a single hand, all piling up on the couch with the last of the pizza and, upon Noodle's insistance, large bowl of popcorn.

"Y'all seen this one before?" Russel asks, gesturing towards the television.

"Russ, it's 'All Dogs go to Heaven'! You choose the same bleedin' movie every time!" Murdoc groans from the arm of the couch.

"I know." Russel says with a soft smile. "I like this movie."

"Aw, he's just upset 'cause this one makes him cry." Stu quips, punching him in the arm playfully.

"That's why I like this movie."

They all laugh at the joke, falling silent as the movie begins. Murdoc had a point, though. Russel chose this movie every time it was his turn to pick one, and so they've all seen it a thousand times. They barely get through the opening credits before Noodle has fallen asleep on Russel's shoulder. Stuart is just starting to fall back into the plot again when a hand on his thigh shakes him back to reality. 

"Can we talk?" Murdoc whispers rather loudly. He's never been good at being quiet.

"Uhm. Sure." Stu says, gently moving Noodle's legs off of his lap. "Porch?"

Murdoc nods, standing and making his way outside. Stuart follows suit, stopping a moment to lay a blanket over his sleeping bandmates. He hesitates a moment at the front door, admittedly afraid of what may happen in the conversation that follows. Taking a deep breath, he steps out onto the porch.

"What's up, Muds?" Stu asks, trying to act like everything is normal.

"I wanted to ask you that. We haven’t seen you in 2 days. You haven't been using again, have you?"

"I thought you could tell when I've been using, _Dr. Niccals._ " Stuart teases, earning him a pointed glare from the smaller man. "No, Murdoc. I'm clean. You?"

Murdoc scoffs, shoving his hands into his pockets. "Yeah."

There is a long pause before either of them speak, one that is charged with unspoken feelings. Finally, Stuart opens his mouth.

"I'm sorry." He says, placing a hand on Murdoc's shoulder.

"For what?" Murdoc looks up at him, nose crinkled in confusion.

"For kissin' you." Stu admits with a sigh. "And for breaking your nose, and your ribs, and fucking up your eye, and-"

"Whoa, whoa, stop. Shut up. You don't need to apologize for any of that. I'm the one who should be apologizing."

"-And for almost killing myself, and for using you for drugs and- wait what are you apologizing for?"

"For everything, really. For hittin' you so often and for calling you names and everything that went on at plastic beach-"

"Oh, I don't care 'bout all that. It's over. It's already happened and I'm gettin' help for it." Stu shrugs. "Apologizing ain't gonna change much of that. But I suppose I appreciate the thought."

They look into each other's eyes for a moment, both a little dumbfounded. Then, Stuart can't take it anymore. He bursts into laughter.

"OI! What's so funny?!" Murdoc shouts 

"Ha ha! Heh.. Sorry Muds. Just- what are we _doing_?"

"I-I really don't know." Murdoc chuckles. He places his hand on Stu's arm, steadying himself as they both laugh about their situation, voices drifting off into the starless night. 


	7. ...And I Can't Get Back Without You

They step back inside still grinning from ear to ear. Stu has slipped his hand into Murdoc's again, this time far more confident in the action. He's in the middle of closing the door when Murdoc stops suddenly, jerking his arm in the process. Stuart turns to say something to him and is met with Noodle and Russel, staring the both of them down with their arms crossed over their chests.

"Um...hi?" Stuart says awkwardly, made quite uncomfortable by the unrelenting stare of his bandmates. 

"Boy, don't you 'um hi' me!" Russel barks. "What's going on with you two?!"

"What do you mean 'what's going on between us'?!" Murdoc says defensively, beginning to raise his voice. "Who says there's anything going on between us?!"

"Sneaking off in the middle of movie nights, long 'smoke breaks' on the porch, days holed up writing songs..." Noodle whittles off, looking them up and down. "And you're holding hands."

Murdoc jerks his hand away as though he's been burned, cheeks coloring a deep red. 

"So what?" He says. "We're friends."

"You're _holding hands_ , Muds." Russel insists.

"Lots of friends hold hands!!" Murdoc shouts, blush deepening

Stu places a hand on Murdoc's shoulder, pulling him against him protectively. 

"Murdoc, keep it chilly." He says warningly. :We're just trying to mend our relationship is all. Ya know, considering we're trying this whole 'band' thing again. Now if you'll excuse me, I'd like a cuppa." Stuart extends his arm to Murdoc, as a gentleman might to escort a lady. "Would you like to join me?" He asks, giving the bassist an out. 

Murdoc grumbles something unintelligible, but latches onto Stu's arm, allowing himself to be lead towards the kitchenette.

"What was that about?!" Murdoc whisper/hisses to Stu as he puts the kettle on. Stuart shrugs. 

"I dunno. Thought you might want a way out is all."

"Oh yeah, and _that_ was a real inconspicuous one!" Murdoc says sarcastically. Stu just smiles at his frustration. Behind him, the kettle begins to whistle, and he takes it off, pouring the tea into two waiting teacups. He offers the second to Murdoc, who takes it quietly. When Stu looks up, he notices that Noodle and Russel have gone, assumedly to bed, leaving then the sole occupants of the room. They sip their tea in comfortable silence, enjoying each other's company.

"So..." Murdoc begins, quickly trailing off into his tea. "Uhm...What now?"

Stuart cocks his head. "What do you mean?"

"Where do we go from here?"

"I dunno." Stu says with a shrug. "I'm okay with just....you know."

"No I don't know. What?" Murdoc snaps. 

"Let whatever happens happen, you know"

Murdoc nods quietly, taking a sip from his teacup. "Yeah... I suppose we could do that. I just- I'm not sure how to do this."

"Do what?"

"Have a relationship. With anyone. In any capacity. Let alone romantic, and with you." 

Stu is quiet for a moment, choosing his words very carefully before he speaks. "Murdoc, can I ask you a question?"

"Sure."

"Have you ever....you know...had a girlfriend?" He asks. "Or a boyfriend, I suppose."

Murdoc is quiet for a while. "....no. No, not really." He says with a shrug. "Just wasn't the kind for that." Although, something in his voice told Stu that wasn't quite true, he wasn't going to press for more. Instead, he nods, leaning back against the island. 

"How's your song coming along?" Murdoc asks in a scramble to keep the conversation going. 

"Slowly. It's missing something, but I just can't figure out what."

"It's hard sometimes to find the inspiration." Murdoc says knowingly. "Of course, I imagine it's much easier to write coherent lyrics when you're sober. I can't tell you how many times during the writing of plastic beach I had a brilliant idea and wrote down a sheet of lyrics, only to wake up in the morning with a hangover and a page of bullshit about the fucking seagulls." 

"Seagulls?" Stu asks, almost choking on his tea as he stifles his laughter.

"Hey, you'd be surprised at what one can write about seagulls." Murdoc replies, beginning to laugh at his own foolishness. 2D loses it, almost spilling the contents of his teacup onto the linoleum floor. When their laughter subsides, he finds himself gazing into Murdoc's unfocused eyes, lost in the powerful tangle of emotions he found there. Experimentally, he puts his hand at the nape of Murdoc's neck, leaning in for a kiss. Murdoc's arms wrap around his neck, and the bassist closes the distance between them, kissing him passionately. Stuart places his hands on Murdoc's hips, lifting him onto the island for easier access. He is caught by surprise when Murdoc wraps his legs around his waist, pressing their crotches together. Stu lets out a groan when Murdoc grinds against him, slow and teasing. Suddenly, he knows what's missing. He pulls away quickly. 

"I know what the song needs!" He says excitedly. Murdoc grips the front of his shirt, pulling him back down.

"That's fine love, but we're sort of in the middle of something here." He complains, leaning in for another kiss, but Stu jerks away. 

"Sorry Muds, but I've got to write this down!" He exclaims, pecking Murdoc on the cheek and then dashing up the stairs, leaving Murdoc sitting on the island. 

"Hey! You get back here and finish what you've started, Stuart Tusspot!" He shouts after the singer, but Stu's already gone. He crosses his arms in a pout, staring after him, before hopping off of the island and starting on the dishes. 


	8. Be My Love

The next day, Stuart calls a "family meeting" to debut his new song. Or, songs, as one had quickly turned into two. The band is gathered in the living room, sitting on the couch like a small audience as Stu sets up his Casio. Stuart is more nervous than he's ever been before a performance. He's shaking, palms sweating, and the butterflies in his gut will not relent.

"Uh-uhm... Hi guys." He greets awkwardly. "So uhm, I-I wrote this song- well, actually it's two songs, but they go together, about some things that happened to me recently. And um. The uh, first one I wrote's called 'Busted and Blue', but it actually chronologically comes after the second one I wrote, which is called 'Andromeda', but uhm. Anyway here they are."

Very aware of the eyes on him as he plays, Stuart keeps stealing glances towards the couch. Towards Murdoc, specifically, praying that he's listening. He begins to sing, suddenly worried that the lyrics aren't clear enough. That something might get lost in translation. Still, he sings on, hoping for any sign of understanding in those mismatched eyes. He finds none. In fact, they've grown cold. Almost distant. Stuart begins to panic. He calms himself by remembering that he still has one more song to go. Slowing down, he makes the transition.

This time, he changes his approach, focusing on the music instead. Every time he says something meaningful, he locks eyes with Murdoc, waiting for things to click in the bassist's mind. When he gets to that very first chorus, he finally sees what he's been looking for. That spark of recognition. The raise of the eyebrows behind dark hair. The parting of his lips. He knows. He knows that this is about him now.

He keeps his eyes locked with Murdoc's as he sings, making sure that the bassist hears every word. A faint blush creeps across his green skin, and Stu can't help but grin. He'd had no idea what to say to make this thing they had move forward, to make Murdoc trust him again, to let him know how he felt. But the lyrics came to him through time and experience, and suddenly things came together. He'd say it all in the language that the two of them knew best. He finishes the song, and looks out over his small audience to judge their reactions. They're all just looking at him, slack jawed. He worries for a second that it's rubbish. Stuart begins to stutter self conciously.

"I-I'm sorry. It's still a little rough, a draft you kno- Oof!" He's interrupted by Noodle flinging her arms around him.

"Toochi, that was great!" She laughs. "We're putting that on the new album." 

"Yeah, 'D. That's really good!" Russel exclaims from his spot on the couch. "Didn't you think so, Muds?"

At first, he doesn't get a response. Murdoc is still staring at 2D, eyes shining with- wait were those tears? Stu's heart sinks into his gut. Did he fuck up again? Russel elbows him in the side roughly.

"Murdoc." He says more firmly. 

"Huh? What?"

"I asked what you thought about 2D's songs."

"Oh yeah. They were great. Just lovely. I'm gonna go...have a smoke now." Murdoc says shortly, standing up and speed walking out the front door. 

Stuart feels Noodle's arms unwrap themselves from around his neck as she sinks to her knees on the floor. He feels absolutely awful about this. Maybe he was wrong. Maybe this wasn't the way to do things at all. All three of them stare at the front door in confusion and shock. 

"What was _that_ all about?" Russel asks Stu, gesturing toward the door. 

"I dunno." Stu shrugs. 

"Maybe somebody should go talk to him." Noodle suggests, standing and starting for the door. 

"I'll do it!" Stuart volunteers, and then before either of his bandmates can he's running out the front door. He slams the door behind him, and almost trips over Murdoc, who has curled up on the doormat with his head between his knees. Stu squats down next to him, placing an arm around his shoulders.

"Murdoc, are you alright?" He asks worriedly.

"....why are you doing this to me?" Murdoc replies without looking up. His voice carries the same choked quality it did that night in the hospital.

"What do you mean?" Stu asks worriedly, now certain that he's done something wrong. 

"Dangling this idea of a fucking relationship in front of me. Writing me songs about how much you love me, when we both know that's bullshit-"

"Woah wait! Who says that's bullshit?!" Stu says defensively, beginning to catch on. He swore that this dance they were doing was two steps forward one step back.

Murdoc raises his head to look at him. "Look at me Stuart. I'm a drunk, I hit you, I call you names, I kidnapped you for fuck's sake, I'm old, fifty years old actually, and I've never been in a relationship, I mean come _on_ Stu, I'm crying on a doormat because you wrote me a bloody song, what's there to love about me?"

Stuart smiles, settling next to Murdoc. "Do you really want me to answer that?"

"Yeah, I really do."

"Alright then. You asked for it." Stu says playfully. "I love the way you look when you're playing your bass, I love that stupid thing your hair does when it's gonna rain, I love your fucked up eyes, and your nose, and well, your whole face really, I love your laugh, and the way your nose crinkles when you smile, I love how your hand fits into mine perfectly, I love how smart you actually are I lo-"

"Alright! I get it! You can shut up now!" Murdoc snaps, pushing him lightly. He's blushing again, and Stu can't help but grin at him.

"But you do believe me, right?" He asks, brushing a stray piece of hair from Murdoc's face.

"Yeah, alright faceache, you win." Murdoc says, putting Stu in a headlock and ruffling his hair.

"We can do it, you know." Stu says suddenly, and quite seriously.

"Do what?" Murdoc asks, cocking his head to one side 

"Be in a relationship. Date. That sort of thing."

"I thought you said you didn't want to do that?"

"I was worried that _you_ wouldn't want to do that!"

"Of course I want to do that! What the bloody hell do you think I've been doin' all this for!"

They stare at each other in shocked silence for a split second before bursting into laughter, leaning on each other for support. 

"Alright then. How does dinner and a movie tomorrow night sound?" Stu asks, making no moves to retreat to a safe, 'no homo' distance. 

"Why?" Murdoc retorts, wrinkling his nose in confusion. 

"Because I'm taking you on a proper date, that's why." Stu says with a gentle smile.

"Oh. Yeah. That. Okay. Sure. Tomorrow evening's fine." Murdoc says, embarassment evident in his tone. He stands, dusting off his palms and moving to go back inside, Stuart following suit. Before Murdoc can turn the knob, however, Stu puts a hand on his shoulder.

"Murdoc, I've got one more question." He says, his voice low. 

"What's that then?" Murdoc asks, turning around. He finds that Stu has moved much closer to him, and their noses are nearly touching. 

"Can I kiss you?" Stuart asks, face breaking into a crooked smirk. Murdoc returns the gesture, wrapping his arms around the singer's neck seductively. 

"You don't even have to ask."


	9. Take it in Your Heart

Stuart looks himself over in the mirror, overly aware of every one of his least favorite traits. His nose is too big, his teeth are awful, the bags under his eyes are too heavy, he's too thin, but he's done his best to look nice. He's traded in his t shirt for a button down, run a comb through his hair, and even splashed on some aftershave. Truthfully, he didn't know why he was putting forth so much effort, after all, it was only Murdoc. Still, he wants to make this special. He gives up on staring in the mirror and exits his room. Nervously, he knocks on Murdoc's bedroom door.

"Whaddaya want?!" the bassist shouts through the hard wood of the door. Stuart smiles and rolls his eyes.

"Well, I _was_ going to take you out to dinner, but if this is a bad time then-"

The door swung open, sending Stuart, who had previously been leaning on it, scrambling for balance. Murdoc chuckled at this, using an it as an opportunity to size up the singer while playing it off as mocking him. Some things never do change.

"You clean up nice, Dents." He said with a growl (or a 'Murdoc noise' as their fans lovingly called it. To the band, it was simply 'obnoxious'). 

"W-well, um, you don't look too bad yourself. Is that a new eyeliner?"

"No, I haven't slept in three days." He replied flatly, stepping out of the room. He had attempted to straighten up his appearance, at least, although it was still not nearly as cleaned up as the singer. Inwardly, he worried over whether or not his T-shirt and jeans would be appropriate for whatever eatery his companion had chosen for them. "Where are you taking me?"

"Oh, there's this new Indian place I'd like to try- wait did you say 3 days?!"

"Sounds lovely! I'll drive!" Murdoc said, walking briskly in the direction of the car park.

"Do you even know where it is?" Stuart called, stepping widely to keep up with the shorter man's jog.

"Nope, but that's why they invented the google machine." Murdoc replied

With only a little hesitation, Stuart climbed into the passenger seat of the car. Murdoc was far from the greatest driver, and that being said, his track record with the singer has been far from the best. However, it seemed he wasn't giving Stu any other option. As the bassist struggled with his long nails and the screen of his phone, a thought crossed 2D's mind and before he could stop himself, it came flying out of his mouth.

"Murdoc, are-are you _nervous_ ?"

"Me? Nervous? I've never been nervous in my entire life." He responded sharply, never once looking up from the phone. Stu cracked a smile.

"How about I navigate and you drive, hm? I think we've had enough near-death experiences this month." Stuart said, offering to take the phone. Murdoc grumbled something in response, and reluctantly shoved the phone into the singer's extended hand.

After a few minutes of 2D apparently not knowing his left from his right and Murdoc screeching every time he suddenly had to change directions, they ended up at a completely different restaurant and decided that it wasn't worth another bout of awful directions to find the Indian place. Still bickering over the drive, the two got out and sat down in a secluded booth in the corner.

"Well maybe if YOU had been wearin your glasses like your license clearly says you're s'possed to-"

"Oh no, don't even try to put this on me. I asked you 'left or right?' and your answer was 'yes'! _WHAT DOES THAT EVEN MEAN???_ "

"I dunno, you put me on the spot..."

Before Murdoc had a chance to respond, the waitress had come to take their orders. Folding up his menu and handing it back to the doe eyed waitress, Murdoc sighed and rolled his eyes. Stuart waited until she had stalked off to give Murdoc a pointed glare. 

"What was that about?" He whispered harshly.

"Nothing. Just hope that they can make a decent enchilada after how this date is going, and wishing that this tea was spiked."

"Oh come on. S'not so bad. I mean, if we hadn't gotten lost, we wouldn't have found this place!" 2D gestured generally to the restaurant. 

"Dents, there are pink flamingos on everything, and it's a bloody Mexican restaurant. _What about flamingos says 'mexican food'?_ " Murdoc says, crossing his arms over his chest. 

"Well, not everyone can be an interior designer Muds. Maybe the food will be good." Stu responds, matching Murdoc's posture.

"Doubtful."

"Alright, tha's it. If you don't stop being such a grumpy tool, I'm gonna take you home!" Stuart immediately regrets his choice of words.

"Oh luv." Murdoc purrs from across the table, a mischievous glint in his eyes "I'm counting on it."

Stuart can feel himself flushing a dark red, pants already tightening at the mention of getting laid tonight. Murdoc couldn't have picked a worse time to mess with him, as the waitress had just retuned with their meal. They eat in silence, Stuart attempting to will his boner away and Murdoc contemplating riling him up further. Experimentally, he slides his hand up the singer's thigh, grinning deviously as the color returns to his face.

"Murdoc, please." Stu whines under his breath. "We've still got a whole movie to sit through."

"Or we could skip the movie..." His hand trails dangerously close to Stu's crotch. "...and get right to the part where you fuck me into the mattress."

"M-Murdoc can't we at least finish dinner first?"

The hand on his thigh inched forward to cup him through his jeans, and he nearly moaned at the feeling. He scarfed down the rest of his taco as quickly as possible, flagging the waitress down to bring them the check. As soon as they had paid, Stuart ushered Murdoc out of the restaurant as quickly as possible, slamming him against the side of the building to kiss him roughly. A long tongue curled itself around Stu's as they kissed, a sensation wholly new to him and yet so damn hot. Stuart decided right then and there that he was done waiting. Hooking his arms under the bassist's thighs, he lifted him into his arms, not bothering to separate their lips as he fished the key fob out of Murdoc's back pocket and unlocked the car.

Laying him down in the back seat Stuart wasted no time in removing his pants, discarding them somewhere in the front seat. Their shirts soon followed, and Stu hungrily kissed down Murdoc's neck, nipping and sucking love marks into the exposed flesh. He roughly spread the bassist's legs, wedging himself in between them and grinding against his crotch. Murdoc let out an undignified moan, matching the rolling of his singer's hips, grasping desperately at his shoulders.

".....glove- Ah! Glove box!" He manages to rasp out as Stu turns his attention to his nipples, lapping lazily at one while he rolled the other expertly under his thumb. 

"M'sorry?" Stu asked, cocking his head to one side.

"The lube is in the glove box, dullard! Now hurry up and _Fuck me!_ "

Stuart immediately retrieved the lubricant from the glove box, practically bending Murdoc in half trying to reach. As soon as he had retrieved the lubricant, he hooked his thumbs in Murdoc's briefs, pulling them down and tossing them with the rest of their clothes. Gripping Murdoc's prick firmly, he coated his hand with lube before gently massaging a finger into his arse. Murdoc whined, sinking down onto it eagerly.

"Oh, c'mon Dents! Do it properly! I'm not gonna break!" He moaned, sending Stuart's every nerve aflame. Stu quickly slipped in another finger, pumping them with intent. He reveled in the cries of pleasure Murdoc let out when he curled his fingers to press aginst his prostate.

"Oooh, p-please...." Murdoc crooned

"Please what?" Stu asked with a smirk.

"Oh bloody HELL, just FUCK ME STU!!!"

He could hardly argue with that. Stu pulled his pants down around his thighs and slicked himself up before thrusting slowly into him. They both let out a satisfied groan as Stu bottomed out. Pausing for a moment to let Murdoc adjust to his size, Stu gripped his hips as a means of distraction. Only when the bassist began to roll his hips against him did Stu begin to thrust. 

From the moment he did, Murdoc was an absolute symphony of sound. Every movement Stu made was met with a different groan or a hiss of pleasure, or if he'd really done something right, a high pitched keening sound. It drove him absolutely mad. All the while, Stuart continued to suck love bites into his bassist's collar bones, leaving him with a rather obvious necklace of rapidly purpling bruises. Feeling the beginnings of climax building within him, Stu grasped Murdoc's leaking prick, pumping it in time with his rapid thrusts. Rather suddenly, Murdoc came, gripping the car door so hard that his nails left lasting marks in the fake leather. Stu wasn't far after him, coming deeply inside him.

The two of them sat panting for a moment before separating to clean themselves and dress as best they could in the confined space of the car. It really wasn't bad for a quickie in a restaurant parking lot. Rather amazing, really. And as far as "first times" go, it was entirely befitting of them. Stu looked over to Murdoc, fussing with his hair in the rearview, and couldn't stop himself from smiling.

"What're you lookin at, faceache?" He asked, apparantly having caught the singer's reflection

"I'm watchin you fuss over yer hair like a teenage girl." Stuart said teasingly

"Well at least I have the decency to make sure I don't come home looking like I've just had a shag in a parking lot!"

"Who said anything about coming home? You finished so fast, we've still got time to make a movie!" Stu said, kissing Murdoc on the cheek and climbing over the console to slip into the driver's seat. Murdoc sputtered in shock and frustration for a moment, before resigning himself to the passenger seat.


	10. Lover

Morning came drifting in through Stuart's window, sunlight playing upon his wall, illuminating crayon text and images scrawled onto his wall over the time he's spent here, dancing upon his face. A gentle yet firm weight is on his chest, warm and comforting. Every breath he takes is laced with hints of stale cigarette smoke an musky aftershave, a familiar smell. His arms wrap tighter around his bedfellow, burying his nose into a mop of dark hair. Stu opens his eyes lazily, a soft smile playing upon his lips as he's met with the sight of Murdoc using his body as a sort of mattress. Gently, he runs his fingers through his hair, listening to the sound of his breathing. It isn't long before Murdoc begins to stir, popping one eye open to asses his surroundings.

" 'ow long've we been out, Stu?" he slurred, settling back down comfortably on Stuart's chest.

"I dunno. Since sometime late las' night, probably," Stu says absentmindedly, his focus shifting to a particularly cryptic poem on his wall. He couldn't remember when or why he'd written it, but for the moment it was captivating.

"D'ya think the others are missin' us?"

"They're big kids, they can get on just fine on their own."

"Mmmn. I sure hope so, 'cause I ain't movin'" Murdoc nuzzled himself against Stuart's sternum to make his point.

All too soon, a demanding knock rattled Stu's door in its frame, startling the both of them into wakefulness.

"Hey lovebirds! You better get your shriveled asses downstairs if you want to eat breakfast! Russ and I have already polished off one box and you've got about 5 minutes before we open the other one!" Noodle's voice boomed behind the doorframe. Rapid footsteps leading away from the door signaled that their timer had started.

Quickly pulling on whatever clothes they could find, they stumbled down the stairs groggily. Admittedly, neither one of them were morning people. They staggered into the kitchen, Murdoc immediately making his way to the coffee pot. Noodle looked up from the novel on her lap and fixed her gaze on Stu, the remains of a strawberry frosted donut on a chipped plate in front of her.

"You're wearing each other's shirts. Does this mean that you're done fighting?" she asked bluntly.

Murdoc sputtered into his mug, looking down at the purple button down shirt that hung loosely from his frame, and Stu pulled at the hem of the inside out tee that barely brushed his navel.

"Huh. Well would you look at that?" Stuart laughed, picking out a sprinkled donut and stuffing it into his face without bothering to get a plate. "I dunno how we didn't realize it sooner, you're like a dwarf!"

"No I'm not! You're just a bloody fuckin giant! This thing's like a dress!!" Murdoc protested. "Besides, at least _I_ know how to dress myself. You've got the thing on inside out!"

"I guess not." Russel said with a smile, leaning in towards Noodle from behind his open newspaper. "It's gonna take a lot more than a night of crazy sex to fix these idiots."

"You're right, Russ." Noodle conceded with a nod before turning to the idiots in question "But if one of you ends up in hospital again, you'll join Cyborg on my coffee table." They all had a good laugh at that, despite Noodle assuring them that she was very serious.

The day is passed in a brainstorm session for the new album (After little debate, the name "Humanz" was chosen) writing up lyrics or bits of music, tossing ideas around together, eating snacks, cracking jokes, and laughing at things that probably weren't even funny, But that didn't matter. This, sitting here like this, doing this as a unit- as a _family_ for the very first time was the only thing that mattered in Stu's world. It was the only reason he'd agreed to try this again anyway. Because in Murdoc's pleading eyes, he saw a glimmer of hope. That glimmer of hope that had always done him in. The only difference was, this time it really _was_ everything he'd hoped for.

Around 9 that evening, the party moved to the porch, along with the multiple bags of chips and liter bottles of soda. Stu pressed a lit cigarette to his lips, making a mental note that putting these down would be his next steps towards a healthier lifestyle. Russel was leaned up against the side of the house, offering suggestions for a video for one of the songs he'd written.

"I'm thinkin supernatural. Like, ghosts and shit, ya know?"

"Really? Russel Hobbs thinkin' 'bout putting ghosts in a music video? I never woulda thought!" Stuart teased

"Oh _hell_ no! Remember the last time you convinced us to use your ghost buddies in a music video? Because I do! My balls _still_ haven't recovered from that little adventure." Murdoc protested loudly from his perch on the stoop between Stu and Noodle, who were both barely suppressing giggles.

"Alright, fine. You let me do my ghost thing and you can go off and do whatever it is you wanna do with this video"

Murdoc's triumphant cackle was enough to startle everyone. "I'm gonna get naked. Like bare ass naked and then-"

"NO!" The other band members shouted at once, not even letting him finish that thought

"Hey! Russ said I get to do what I want!"

"Yeah, I know. And it was the biggest mistake I've ever made." Russel said, rubbing the bridge of his nose in exasperation.

Murdoc huffed, crossing his arms over his chest like a child. "It's _my_ band, how come I never get to make any of the creative decisions?"

"Because your ideas are gross, and nobody wants to see your avacado ball sack." Noodle retorted, lip curled in disgust.

"Well, I wouldn't say nobody~" Murdoc said flirtatiously, turning to 2D.

"I'm just taking one for the team!" Stu said with an innocent look on his face. However he couldn't keep up the act when Murdoc's expression switched from flirty to offended. Stuart broke into a teasing grin, the tip of his tongue poking out from the space where his front teeth should be. His grin quickly faded to a look of shock as Murdoc cupped his face and pulled him in for a rough kiss, right there in front of the whole band. Instinctively, he wrapped his arms around the Bassist's middle, pulling him closer as he practically choked him with his tongue. When they pulled apart, Stu was acutely aware of the stares they were getting. He felt his face grow hot.

"Er.... sorry....mate." Murdoc attempted to recover with a friendly pat on the shoulder, but the damage was done. even if they hadn't Just made out in front of god and everyone, his lack of confidence and blush that went all the way to his ears would have betrayed him.

The awkward silence was broken by a large, hearty laugh from their drummer. One of those deep chuckles that are so very contagious. Gradually, everyone on the porch joined in, their mixed laughter loud enough to disturb the whole neighborhood. Stuart unashamedly wrapped an arm around Murdoc, pulling him against his side, and for the first time, Murdoc leaned into him without hesitation, head resting comfortably on Stu's shoulder. As their laughter died down, Noodle slipped her hands into Murdoc and Russel's, humming a little tune she appeared to be making up on the spot.

_"Circle of, circle of, circle of, my circle of friends..."_

The song was simple enough, and after the first repeat, Stu's voice joined hers, taking an upper harmony. Russ's velvety bass found the melody and melted with the others, and Murdoc kept his voice as quiet as he could, trying not to let his tone-deafness ruin the moment. It was beautiful. Their voices combined, floating up into the atmosphere, anouncing their kinship to the quiet gardens, to the trees and the clouds and the cosmos. To anyone who was listening.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is it! I've finally finished! Thanks to all of you for reading it, this has been such a wonderful adventure! See you, hopefully, in my next ones.


End file.
